An assassination attempt years ago had left Damien severely injured and unable to have children.
For eight long years, I had endured thousands of injections with a needle that felt as long as my arm for egg retrieval.
And now, after all that, we finally had this child.
For eight months, I had carefully protected this pregnancy.
He'd once broken a maid's leg just for bringing me milk that wasn't warm enough.
Now, for Lilith's supposed period cramps, he had locked me in a meat locker without a second thought.
A bitter coldness welled up in my heart. I was about to speak again.
But Lilith let the fur coat slip from her shoulders, her sobs devolving into a pitiful whisper.
"Damien, please, let her out. She's a principessa; she can't handle this. It's not like she's a girl from the streets, like me. I could freeze to death and I wouldn't dare complain..."
Freezing to death?
I had only been in the wine cellar for a little over half an hour.
When I left the club, Lilith was still laughing with her friends, making plans to go party that night!
I was about to expose her.
Damien's face instantly turned grim, his voice as cold as ice.
"You heard her. Get in there and rip that nightgown off her. A pampered principessa, is she? Let's give her a taste of the street life!"
He bent down and picked up the coat.
As he gently draped it over Lilith, his icy gaze landed on me.
"You can come out when you've learned your lesson! The doctor said my son is perfectly healthy. Don't you dare use him as an excuse to get out of this!"
With that, he swept Lilith up into his arms.
His voice practically dripped with tenderness and adoration.
"Baby, you're unwell. You shouldn't be on your feet. You're staying right here in my arms, and I'd like to see anyone try and say otherwise."
